


Every Filly Needs a Master

by Unforth



Series: Tumblr Ficlets: Supernatural [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean, Dirty Talk, Dom Castiel, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rancher Castiel, Sex Toys, Sub Dean, Top Castiel, Tourist Dean, Under-negotiated Kink, Whipping, bratty dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 07:47:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10759869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth
Summary: Tumblr ficlet written to the prompt: Hot, badass cowboy Castiel meets Dean the annoying tourist (who humiliates himself in more ways than just obnoxious flirting). Dean eventually gets so bad that he starts inhibiting Cas's work day... Cas gets all dom on him and decides to teach Dean a lesson... with a rope, or a belt, or sex... or all three...





	Every Filly Needs a Master

**Author's Note:**

> The past couple weeks, I've taken prompts for short fics and written and posted them on Tumblr. I wanted to post them on AO3 as well but have been considering how best to do so. A quick survey of my subscribers and followers suggests that people would prefer if I post them all as individual stories and put them in a series together instead of as multiple chapters on the same file or any other of several options, so that's what I'm doing.
> 
> Please note that I generally do not take "out of nowhere" prompts, cause I don't have time, but I will sometimes ask people to send me ideas and I'll write them in the order I receive them. 
> 
> You can follow me on Tumblr at [unforth-ninawaters](unforth-ninawaters.tumblr.com).
> 
> Make sure you read the prompt! 
> 
> [~original post~](http://unforth-ninawaters.tumblr.com/post/160115427153/hello-if-you-find-the-time-to-write-this-my)
> 
> Prompt, from anonymous:  
> Hello, if you find the time to write this, my Prompt is: Hot, badass cowboy Castiel meets Dean the annoying tourist (who humiliates himself in more ways than just obnoxious flirting). Dean eventually gets so bad that he starts inhibiting Cas's work day... Cas gets all dom on him and decides to teach Dean a lesson... with a rope, or a belt, or sex... or all three... Good luck on your project, and thank you!

“Hey!”

Gritting his teeth, Castiel focused on his curry comb. Working at a ranch had seemed like a _great_  idea, and most of the time Castiel loved it; he’d always gotten along with horses better than people. Aside from leading trail rides, no one expected him to interact with the customers much, which was for the best since, as his most recent evaluation made explicit, his “people skills” were “lacking.”

“Hey!!”

Dean tested every single damn last one of Castiel’s nerves. The guy was insufferable. And gorgeous. And distracting. And _utterly insufferable_. Castiel was still trying to figure out how Dean had fallen off his horse the day before. They were _standing still_. Dean was on fricken _Continental_ , the most placid horse at the ranch, because he’d gotten bucked off Impala the day before while messing around. And, for once, Dean hadn’t been doing something _stupid_ , at least not that Castiel had been able to tell.

Not that Castiel spent a lot of time staring at Dean.

And even if he did it wasn’t because Dean was the most attractive nincompoop Castiel had ever met.

It was because Dean kept staring at _him_.

That was the _only reason_.

“Cas!!”

 _God_  Castiel hated that nickname.

“My name is _Castiel_ ,” he snapped before he could stop himself. Chevelle nickered nervously, tapping a steel-shod hoof on the concrete floor of stall. 

“Sorry,” said Dean without a hint of contrition. “But–”

“No, you’re not,” Castiel interrupted. “Dean Winchester. I have been _exceptionally_  patient with you. You have tracked me down during my personal time, when I have more work to do than you can possibly fathom, and your pestering incompetence has finally gotten on my _last_  nerve. If what you have to say is as important as you think - which is _truly_  doubt, since I’ve yet to see you exercise good judgement _once_  in the week since you got here so I can’t imagine you’ll start now - then you may wait, _patiently_ , on your _damn knees_ , at the door to the tack room, and then we can _talk_. Do you understand?” Every word came hissed through gritted teeth; picking up his mood, Chevelle rolled her eyes, shied back, and Castiel ran a soothing hand down her side.

He could be gentle.

When he wanted to be.

But only once the filly was broken in.

“ _You will answer me, Dean_.” Castiel glanced sidelong at Dean, standing in the arch separating the main barn from the stall where Castiel hosed down and groomed every horse every day. The man was immobile, stunned, mouth agape, features made browner and more tan surrounded by the deep polished wood of the stable.

“Oh,” Dean breathed. “Okay then. Uh. Sorry.”

Dean turned and walked away.

Heaving a relieved sigh, Castiel returned to his actual damn job.

God he hated customers.

 _That should be the last of that, at least_.

*

The guide for the last tour had left all the harnesses out. Muttering annoyance under his breath, Castiel went from stall to stall, gathering them and giving the horses treats. Unlike people, who found Castiel’s standoffishness disconcerting, he and the horses had an understanding. There was no place else in the world he was so comfortable as in this building. With a half-dozen sets of tack over his arm, carefully laid out so that the leather leads wouldn’t tangle, Castiel went to hang them in the tack room. Walking down the main hallway, reveling in the musky scent of oats and hay and the light under-odor of horse waste, Castiel made the turn down the wide hallway and froze.

Dean fucking Winchester knelt in the doorway to the tack room, eyes fixed on the floor, hands resting on his knees, shoulders slumped.

Castiel had directed him to wait there _five hours ago_.

“You did as I ordered,” said Castiel flatly.

“Yes…” There was a laden pause after the word, and Castiel could almost hear the unspoken honorific assigned to him.

_Is Dean…could he be a sub?_

_Could he have guessed I’m a dom?_

Suddenly, all the bratty bullshit Dean had pulled the past week made sense. Even if Dean _didn’t_  realize Castiel’s proclivities, that the only way Castiel had patience for a human partner was when they were as obedient and subservient and well behaved as the animals to whom he better related (and often _wished_  he could have a relationship with), a man like Dean must have come to the ranch hoping there’d be _someone_  here who could tame him and break him in.

Dean was _profoundly_  lucky to have found Castiel.

_And I’m profoundly lucky to have found Dean? No, only time will tell that…some bitches are more trouble than they’re worth, and from what I’ve seen of Dean so far…?_

_There’s only one way to handle a bratty sub._

“The word you’re looking for is _master_ ,” Castiel said harshly. If he’d read the situation wrong, this was the moment where–

“Yes, master,” murmured Dean.

Castiel hadn’t read the situation wrong.

Desire thrummed through his veins.

“Stand up,” Castiel commanded. Dean obeyed. “Step into the tack room and stand beside the door.” Dean’s eyes remained glued on the floor, his hands clasped before him. With the doorway vacant, Castiel stepped into the room, reached behind him, and closed the door. The lock, meant to keep the tourists from stealing the expensive gear, clicked behind him. 

“Dean, over the past week you have been out of control, erratic, inconsistent, and nearly impossible to be around,” said Castiel sternly. “For several days, I’ve thought you needed someone to put you in your place. Do you agree?” Castiel snapped the last question out like a whip crack as he hung the harnesses from their hooks. Dean flinched and nodded. “ _You will use your words_.”

“Yes, master,” Dean croaked. A twitch of fabric caught Castiel’s eye - Dean hadn’t moved a muscle, but the crotch of his pants had definitely moved.

“Do you want me to train you, Dean Winchester?” Anticipation buzzed hot under Castiel’s skin, his eye already skimming the wall of whips and riding crops. They’d never a whip a horse at the ranch, of course, the whips at _worst_  were used on the ground nearby, mostly for demonstration purposes.

_A demonstration._

_That’s exactly what Dean needs_.

Castiel picked out a riding crop and slapped it against his hands.

“Yes, master,” whispered Dean. Dean’s gaze flicked up.

Castiel grinned, cold, aloof, authoritarian, and Dean looked away again, his cheeks flushing, the bulge in his pants growing. A shiver of anticipation trailed up Castiel’s spine.

After all the irritation Dean had caused Castiel the past week…

…this was going to be _so much fun_.

_Time for some catharsis…_

“I’m going to teach you to be such a good little bitch for me,” Castiel purred. “I–”

“Please!” Dean interrupted. The tension winding Castiel tight amplified. Dean was _pushing_  for punishment. God, that was _delicious_. “Please, master, yes - I want to be your good little bitch!”

_Holy shit._

_I take back every nasty thing I ever said about him._

_And if that’s not nearly explicit consent for me to beat him bloody and fuck his brains out I’m not sure what is._

“What’s your safe word, Dean?” asked Castiel, quelling his desire for just a moment, just long enough to be sure he did this _right_. _If this is as good for me as I think it will be…if this is as good for_ him _as I hope I can make it…maybe it doesn’t have to be a one time thing…_

 _He_ is _gorgeous…_

“Impala, master.”

“Good,” Castiel murmured. Dean shuddered and breathed a needy noise in response to the praise. “You’re responding well to my techniques already. Just needed someone to set you down and _force_  you to mind your manners, right?”

“Yes…”

“Are you ready, Dean?”

“Yes, master.”

“Strip.”

The alacrity with which Dean obeyed was _incredibly_  satisfying. The slap- _crack_  of the riding crop against his bare, freckled, muscular back was even _more_  incredibly satisfying, and when Castiel sank his cock into this new boy’s beautiful mouth, _finally_  shutting him up once and for all?

It was all Castiel could do not to come immediately.

_It’s been far too long since I had a new bitch._

That night, instead of returning to his assigned room at the ranch, Dean curled up on the floor beside Castiel’s bed in the loft above the stable, naked, leather bands around his neck, wrists and ankles denoting Castiel’s new ownership. Dean still had a lot to learn, but he was remarkably receptive, and Castiel hadn’t been so excited since the ranch brought in that new temperamental filly Meg the year before.

_This is going to be so much fun._

“You’ve been a very good boy for me today,” Castel murmured into the quiet of the night. “Keep it up, behave yourself, and you’ll _earn_  your rewards.”

“I’d like that, master,” said Dean with a content sigh. Sinking into an easy sleep, Castiel let his mind toy with all the ways he could play with his new toy. Putting Dean in his place had been perfection, and on their evening ride, Dean had behaved himself, not acted out, and not even _flinched_  at the way the delicious roll of his hips in the saddle stretched and compressed the whip marks on his back, pushed and tugged at the plug in his ass.

Castiel hadn’t let him come.

Maybe he would tomorrow.

_So responsive…_

_Sometimes perfection comes in the strangest packages…I hope I get to keep him…_


End file.
